Of fulmars and fleams

Kathleen Jamie is a poet. This might be described as her occasional book, in the sense of being a record of what she saw, smelt, heard or felt during these various experiences and expeditions. Most are concerned, loosely, with natural history —ospreys, wild salmon, corncrakes, whales; all of them pertain to Scotland (of which she is a fine-voiced native). There is nothing fey or arty about her writing. She has an inquisitive, unpredictable, generous mind that she speaks firmly.

In this connection, much of one chapter discusses a pair of peregrines trying to nest nearby. It is notorious that J. A. Baker’s The Peregrine (1967) is the last word on the subject: an unrepeatable and magical combination of observational and literary skills — the Tristram Shandy of bird books. Jamie not only gives him his full due, she also finds room for sundry speculations concerning Baker, who ‘utterly effaced’ himself from his masterpiece.